


terminal insanity

by decays



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: BDSM, Dom Iwaizumi Hajime, Handcuffs, M/M, Overstimulation, Post-Time Skip, Restraints, Spreader Bars
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-21
Updated: 2021-01-21
Packaged: 2021-03-12 21:13:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,881
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28891935
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/decays/pseuds/decays
Summary: “Hey, Iwa-chan—”“I saw the sex stuff in your bathroom,” Toru violently blurts against his will.Time stretches out, eternal, unending… the void at the beginning and end of all things coming to claim Toru as he stands in his borrowed house slippers by Iwaizumi's door. There’s a ringing in his ears, or perhaps it’s the laughter of some vengeful god.Iwaizumi's expression doesn’t outwardly change. His eyes feel like they’re drilling holes in Toru's head.“It’s not sex stuff. It’s bondage gear.”
Relationships: Iwaizumi Hajime/Oikawa Tooru
Comments: 18
Kudos: 89





	terminal insanity

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to [Moonlumie](https://twitter.com/moonlumie/status/1351786393572241408) for inspiring me with their work! Permission to use their work can be found [here](https://twitter.com/moonlumie/status/1351786393572241408?s=20)!

Iwaizumi is already regretting inviting his teammates into his home.

It’s been roughly twelve minutes since they walked in the door and the mistake is glaring. Iwaizumi doesn’t understand why they can’t watch this game tape alone in the first place. 

It started a week and a half ago when Coach Foster read some article about group analysis being superior to individual review and it ended with a mandate for the whole team to group up to watch a recent Adlers v. Red Falcons game. 

Iwaizumi supposes this is better than the elevation training idea the coach was obsessed with during conditioning camp. He’s still convinced that the mountain cold left him with nerve damage in his pinky toe, even though the trainers assured Iwaizumi there’s nothing wrong with it. 

“Iwaizumi-san, do you want one of my sodas?!” Bokuto asks loudly from Iwaizumi’s armchair.

As if Bokuto’s unending energy hadn’t been enough for one team... Iwaizumi can feel a headache forming between his eyes.

 _Please… please don’t spill,_ he thinks to himself as he watches the bottle balance precariously between the wing spiker's knees, trying and failing to keep his brow from pinching into a scowl.

“No, thank you,” he replies. 

“Aww, you sure, 'Zumi? It’s melon flavor!” Bokuto says, horrifically waving his own bottle over his head. 

“Yeah, Iwaizumi-kun. Dontcha want somethin’ sweet?” 

And then there’s him. Oikawa Toru is slouched into the corner of his couch, arms spread out over the back of it like he owns the place. His cocky, heavy-lidded gaze nearly makes Iwaizumi roll his eyes.

“I’ll get the tape cued up,” he says instead, ignoring them. 

The thing is, there weren’t really any better venue options for this than Iwaizumi’s apartment. Iwaizumi is still living out of a hotel. Toru’s place is apparently a small studio picked more for location than size. Bokuto apparently had the space and was willing to host, but… Iwaizumi’s seen the way he lives on the road. To continue playing on the same side of the net as Bokuto, it is absolutely essential that Iwaizumi never witness the surely horrific state of his home. Bokuto’s boyfriend seems to have a good head on his shoulders, but there’s only so much Akaashi can do for Bokuto’s apartment when he spends most of his time in Tokyo.

So, in picking the least of a series of extreme evils, Iwaizumi invited his teammates to his own apartment. In all honesty, he regretted it the moment it left his mouth. He regrets it now. He’s sure he’ll continue to regret it throughout the night.

Iwaizumi ends up being right in ways he never could have predicted.

Toru honestly agrees with Iwaizumi that this whole group tape watching exercise is pretty futile, which is why he already watched it earlier in the afternoon. With Iwaizumi and Bokuto in the same room, there’s no way anyone could focus enough to break down the opposition’s receive formations. Even so, he’s been vocally supportive of the whole group watch party concept just for the opportunity to see Iwaizumi squirm.

His current objective is less centered around match footage and more focused on seeing how many times he can make Iwaizumi look like he’s just stepped in gum. Toru knows it’s not exactly mature, but hey, he’s a twin. Whenever Osamu isn’t around, he has to find a way to fulfill his innate need to good-naturedly torture someone. 

And Iwaizumi is _so_ easy to torment. 

Speaking of the devil, Toru’s phone buzzes on the arm of the sofa, flashing Osamu’s name over an extremely unflattering picture of his face. He stands up to take the call, dodging around Iwaizumi, who just hopped up from the couch singing some ditty about going to the bathroom. 

Iwaizumi acts like a twelve-year-old off the court but damn it if Toru doesn’t find it endearing as hell. He ruffles bright ginger hair as he heads down the hallway behind him and picks up the call. 

“Sup, ‘Samu?”

“Hey. Just got off the phone with Ma’. She’s gettin’ rid of a few things and needs some help movin’ things. I’d help but I’m up’n Tokyo workin’ on the new store ‘til the end of next week…”

They chat about logistics for a minute, Toru confirming that he’ll have time to swing by home sometime in the next day or two. When he hangs up, Toru realizes that he has to take a leak as well but, judging by the singing still coming from the bathroom in the hall, it’s occupied. 

Toru _could_ wait, but he glances at the door that must lead to the bedroom. This is a nice place; Iwaizumi surely has an ensuite, he thinks to himself. 

He’d be lying if a desire to see the neat-freak’s bedroom isn’t also at play here, but he’d never admit it out loud. He wonders if Iwaizumi uses plastic sheets that can be sterilized each morning. The thought makes him chuckle to himself. 

Carefully, Toru cracks the door open, leaning to look inside. There’s nothing particularly weird about the room, to Toru’s deep disappointment. It’s nice, though: lots of cast iron and soft greys with wood accents. There’s even a fleece throw blanket casually draped over a metal accent chair in the corner with a potted plant on the seat. 

Toru sniggers. 

It isn’t surprising considering the size and furnishings in the main areas of the apartment, but this seals Toru’s belief that Iwaizumi _absolutely_ comes from money. A little rich kid, who’d have thought?

Toru slides quickly and quietly into the room and towards the open bathroom door. He makes it to the doorway, pleased at his successful territory breach, and then Toru freezes.

Feet rooted to the ground. Jaw dropped. No brain activity. _Frozen_. 

It’s strange, the way the world immediately tips sideways and Toru forgets where he is as he takes in black leather. There’s _black leather_ hanging from a curtain rod—from _Iwaizumi’s curtain rod_. Toru snaps back into spacetime. 

The biggest item looks like some sort of harness, with buckles and silver rings. Next to it is something that Toru can definitely identify: thick leather cuffs, four of them, with a series of chains delicately draped beside them. Finally, small enough that Astumu doesn’t notice it until he staggeringly _does_ , is a ball gag. The ones that Toru has seen before, in the margins of porn sites or on the front of smutty manga, always feature a bright red ball. This one is all black. 

_Iwaizumi has a sex toy aesthetic_ , some voice in the back of his head muses as the rest of his brain goes into a momentary nuclear meltdown. 

He’s already back at the bedroom door by the time that his brain comes back on line. He shuts the door, nearly body-slamming Iwaizumi when he turns around.

“Uwah!” the redhead exclaims. “Ah! Toru-san! Were you waiting to use the bathroom?”

“Nope!” Toru says, his voice coming out pitchy and strained. 

Toru spends the rest of the evening looking anywhere _but_ at Iwaizumi. He doesn’t watch the game, either. He doesn’t do much of _anything_ except blink repeatedly at the wall and try to figure out how he’s going to live with the knowledge that Iwaizumi is into kinky sex. Iwaizumi can _never_ find out that he knows. 

He’d never even _thought_ of Iwaizumi as a sexual being before today. Toru always figured physical intimacy would be beneath him, base and disgusting. 

Toru is so wrapped up in his thoughts that it takes Bokuto waving a hand in front of his face to snap back to the present.

“Eyyyy, Tsum-Tsum! We’re headed out. You coming to the station with us?” 

Iwaizumi’s putting on his coat in the genkan and Iwaizumi is sitting in one of the armchairs, focused on his phone. 

“Ah, I actually drove,” Toru says. 

“Alright, then,” Bokuto says, heading over to the genkan to put his shoes on. “See you at practice!” 

“Bye, Toru-san!” Iwaizumi waves around Bokuto’s big body as they head out the door. 

Toru stands up and realizes he’s made a fatal error as soon as the door clicks shut. _Why didn’t he say he’d walk down with them?!_ Now he’s alone, in an apartment with Iwaizumi—Iwaizumi and his leather harnesses. 

He nearly chokes on his own spit, rushing towards the door. 

“You still have a few drinks in the fridge. I won’t drink them so please take them with you,” Iwaizumi says, grxabbing the clicker to flip the TV over to the news. 

“Right,” Toru says and abruptly switches directions. 

He grabs his two remaining peach teas up and puts them in the convenience store bag he brought them in. He rushes back into the living room. He doesn’t quite get to his coat on the hook by the door before Iwaizumi speaks.

“Hey, Oikawa—”

“I saw the sex stuff in your bathroom,” Toru violently blurts against his will. 

Time stretches out again, eternal, unending… the void at the beginning and end of all things coming to claim Toru as he stands in his borrowed house slippers by Iwaizumi’s door. There’s a ringing in his ears, or perhaps it’s the laughter of some vengeful god. 

Iwaizumi’s expression doesn’t outwardly change. His eyes feel like they’re drilling holes in Toru’s head. 

“It’s not sex stuff. It’s bondage gear.”

Well. Ok then. 

Iwaizumi gets a series of texts later that night. He’s just changing into a pair of clean boxer briefs and a white tee shirt in preparation for bed when his phone buzzes on the side table. 

**From:** Oikawa Toru  
>> What do you mean it’s not sex stuff? I thought bondage gear was sex stuff. 

He should probably just ignore the text, but delicacy has never been Iwaizumi’s strong suit.

 **To:** Oikawa Toru  
>> It can be used in sexual play but BDSM isn’t inherently sexual. Do your own research Oikawa.

Still, Iwaizumi would hate for Toru to google some porn site and think he was doing research. Considering the horrors that could be heralded by a free-range Toru, Iwaizumi decides to pull up a BDSM 101 article from a trusted source and send the link. 

He then decisively turns his phone to _do-not-disturb_ and turns off the lights. 

They don’t have practice the next day, so by mid morning Toru has read through the link that Iwaizumi sent, as well as three or four of the pages that were hyperlinked in it. As a free-wheeling bisexual who’s never had trouble finding a partner, Toru considers himself pretty experienced. He’s had a girl ask him to smack her on the ass before, and he had a short lived boyfriend who liked to have his wrists held down when they fucked. Even so, he’s always had pretty vanilla tastes, he supposes. 

Two bodies touching each other has always been pretty much enough to get Toru going, either in person or on video. 

So, he really just opens the link out of some morbid curiosity. He hadn’t even really meant to send that text, but it had just been… eating at him. It may have been a tactical error because, no matter his reasons, Toru didn’t expect to be _fascinated_. He had no idea BDSM was so complex. He clicks a link to something called _shibari_ and his eyes go comically wide. 

_Huh._

He’s still having trouble wrapping his head around the idea of this not being a sex thing, though. Especially as he hops in the shower and finds his hand wrapped around his cock, one forearm braced against the tile. The scalding water pounds down on his back as images of rope and kneeling figures run through his head. 

Toru pants through his open mouth, fingertips pressed into the wall as his pace speeds up against his will. He thinks about studded collars and an ass so red you need to put lotion on it when you’re done. He thinks about a pale chest wrapped in a clean, black, leather harness.

_“Mmnf-fuck!”_

His strangled curse is drowned out by the sound of water against porcelain, and the evidence of Toru’s sudden obsession disappears down the drain. 

About fifteen minutes later, Toru is sitting in his kitchen in a pair of sweats with his towel around his neck, perusing an article on different types of doms and subs. Once again he finds his fingers flying over his phone keyboard before he can think better of it.

 **To:** Iwa-chan  
>>Iwaizumi r ya a dom or a sub?

Toru checks the article again, realizing he forgot one of the main ones. 

**To:** Iwa-chan  
>>Or a switch?

Anyone else would probably tell Toru to fuck off, but for all his derision, Iwaizumi is rarely anything but brutally truthful when asked a direct question. Sure enough, only five minutes later his phone dings.

 **From:** Iwa-chan  
 _“Ow, ow, ow!”_

He flops down onto the mat. Maybe he really should give up on this whole thing. On the other hand… giving up really isn’t in his nature. 

Iwaizumi sits at his kitchen table with his laptop in front of him, perusing an email from a man that had been recommended to him as a potential sub. For a few years now, Iwaizumi has been part of a closed, online group of doms. They primarily discuss techniques, gear, and the community in general. The group is also a great resource for connecting with other people in the community. 

It’s only been a few months since Iwaizumi moved to Osaka to join the Japan Team after graduating university. He’s met up with different subs twice since his arrival. While Iwaizumi prefers to be nonexclusive and uncommitted, he likes to be able to develop an ongoing relationship with his subs. The few he’s been able to do so with in the past have produced the most satisfying experiences. There’s only so much you can do to a person without an existing bond of trust and experience.

Unfortunately, neither of the subs he’s met in Osaka have been a good match. While the first was a decent fit when it came to shared interests, he spent most of their scene, for lack of a better word, _wailing_. Iwaizumi found the sound… grating. Plus, it made it extremely difficult to tell what actually hit his buttons when he _started_ at a ten. 

The second, whose cleanup Toru unfortunately stumbled upon, was better, but he overstayed his welcome a bit by asking to sleep over, which Iwaizumi respectfully declined. That alone might not have disqualified him from a second scene, but he was also… tiny, frankly. He probably stood at 165cm tops and looked like a stiff wind could blow him over. 

Iwaizumi’s self-aware enough to know that a lot of the pleasure and satisfaction he gains from domming is controlling something, a person, that otherwise couldn’t necessarily be controlled. He likes his subs strong, and vital. He likes to see their muscles bunch up under their skin as they fight Iwaizumi’s carefully tied knots, as they stop themselves from pushing him away, as they bow to the dom’s power. 

Everyone has preferences, and it seems like this newest candidate at least fits that one as Iwaizumi reads _weight lifting_ as one of the sub’s hobbies in the endearing ‘about me’ section he put at the top of his interests checklist. Unfortunately, the positives pretty much end there. Iwaizumi sighs as he reads through the rest: heavy into roleplaying and passionate about ongoing master/slave play. 

Iwaizumi likes to keep his play behind closed doors. The idea of texting someone what they’re supposed to wear or eat sounds like hell. 

He types up a thank you and politely declines the offer to meet up. 

With that done, Iwaizumi considers his words to Toru the day before about connecting him to a local dom. He knows there are at least a couple doms in his group in the greater Osaka area. Some of them would probably even like the idea of ‘training’ a new sub, so to speak. That’s definitely an area of interest for many doms. 

Yet, this group has been the only one Iwaizumi’s found that boasts a mature, almost professional culture. He’d absolutely loathe to end up kicked out because he set someone up with the trainwreck that Toru is guaranteed to be. 

Iwaizumi steeples his fingers in front of his face, chin resting on the pads of his thumbs. Perhaps it wouldn’t be the worst idea to take Toru on just for one session. It’s not like he has anyone to work with right now, and inflicting Toru on others seems cruel. 

His eyes suddenly widen in horror and he snaps his laptop shut.

If Iwaizumi’s having ideas that stupid, he’d better go find a book or some other way to better himself as a human being. That train of thought is too dangerous to take.

It doesn’t end.

“Iwaizumi-kun, is this a good source of info?” 

A phone is shoved in Iwaizumi’s face and he’s hit with images of various implements of impact play and their respective effects and pain levels. He quickly glances around the locker room, which has only just started filling up before practice. He then levels a baleful glare at Toru. 

The setter just waits expectantly. Banning Toru from texting him about BDSM may have backfired, if it results in it continuously coming up in the locker room. Not wanting Toru to ask again, Iwaizumi looks at the graphic as quickly as possible. 

“Seems accurate enough,” Iwaizumi murmurs through his mask.

“Thanks, Iwa-chan,” Toru says and begins to walk away. He looks over his shoulder, smirking. “Let me know if there’s anything ya need to double check, though. I’d be willin’ ta selflessly volunteer.”

Honestly, hitting Toru sounds pretty good right now. Iwaizumi’s eyes pinch around the edges as he resists dissociating into the void. 

Later, as Iwaizumi drives home, he finally admits that Toru hasn’t acted exactly like Iwaizumi had expected him to when he initially showed interest. He didn’t even expect the other man to be interested in subbing, let alone show evidence of doing real research. 

Iwaizumi pulls into his parking spot and turns the engine off but doesn’t get out of the car. He keeps his hands on the steering wheel as his eyes drill into the cement walls of the underground garage. He clenches his jaw. 

He can’t believe he’s going to dom for _Oikawa Toru_.

 _You don’t have to. In fact you really, really shouldn’t,_ a voice in his head counters.

But somewhere deep down, the decision has already been made. It was probably made the moment that Iwaizumi came up with a reason not to send him off to another dom. He rests his forehead against his steering wheel and tries not to bang his skull against it. 

By the next week this whole situation has started to become a _problem_ for Toru, too. Clearly Iwaizumi’s recently been wishing that Osamu ate his twin in the womb, but it’s not like Toru hasn’t been suffering himself. He can’t stop looking at Iwaizumi’s freakishly long fingers and keeps getting dry mouth when the spiker puts his mask on because he can’t stop thinking about whether or not he wears it in the bedroom. So, who’s _really_ at fault for their predicament here? 

They have a road trip and Toru decides to let it go for now, see if it’s just a passing fascination. He’s not going to bug Iwaizumi and he’s going to avoid thinking about whips and chains.

“Are you feverish, Tsum-Tsum? You sure have been taking a lot of showers!” Bokuto, his current road roommate, says when Toru exits the bathroom, towel around his waist for the fifth time in two days. 

It’s… not going great.

Toru blames the leather jacket that Iwaizumi wore to the yakiniku place after their win the first night. 

Luckily he’s spared from having to answer the question by Bokuto’s phone ringing. He picks up quickly, pressing the device to his face.

_“Keiiiiji!”_

Aw, Toru’s going to get cavities. 

Still, through the week, Toru manages to mildly keep it together, at least until they head to an izakaya on the final night of the trip. They won out the trip series, so the team is lively and well on their way to tipsy by the time their food arrives. Somehow, Toru has ended up next to the man himself, Iwaizumi wedged in the corner so he can retreat towards the wall as soon as he finishes eating. 

As the night evolves—or devolves, more accurately—Toru and Iwaizumi end up chatting. There are two topics that consistently suppress the antagonism between them: volleyball and judging others. Today it’s the drunken antics of their teammates.

Eventually that topic burns out and there’s a moment of silence. Nobody is paying attention to them in the corner. Iwaizumi is sitting up against the wall, mask back on. Toru’s not even looking at him when he next speaks. 

“Oikawa, are you still interested in experimenting with subbing?” 

A lot of feelings hit Toru at once. First he perks up, and then flushes as he realizes they’re at a restaurant with their teammates. A quick glance around confirms nobody is paying attention to them. Most of the team has shifted down towards the end of the table to watch Iwaizumi try to construct a card tower out of oyster shells. 

Toru turns back to Iwaizumi, blurting out a, “Y-yeah!”

Then he remembers the last thing Iwaizumi told him, about looking for someone in his community to dom Toru, and wilts a little. 

“But I still don’t wanna do it with a stranger. Sorry if I wasted your time talkin’ to your… people,” Toru says, looking away from Iwaizumi. 

“No, I decided that was a bad idea. Sending you to someone else would definitely end up hurting my reputation.”

Toru’s head whips around. 

“What’s that supposed ta mean?!”

Iwaizumi continues as if Astumu hasn’t spoken. 

“So I’ve decided I’ll do _one_ scene with you, if only to prove you’re not cut out for it.”

“Well that’s really rude—wait, _what_ —you will?!”

The dark haired man isn’t meeting Toru’s eyes; he seems to be staring off into the distance, maybe counting the number of beer posters on the izakaya wall. 

“First I’ll need you to send me the results of an up to date STI screening. I’ll send you a kink checklist to fill out later. Anything you’re not sure about you can leave blank. I’ll also send you mine for reference,” Iwaizumi says. “It’s alright if what you pick is sexual in nature, but know that I don’t get sexually involved with my new subs during scenes.”

There’s a ringing in Toru’s ears. It’s a lot to take in, so he focuses on the last part.

“What does that mean? How can I pick something sexual if you don’t get _sexually involved_?”

“While the play might involve you climaxing, I won’t fuck you and I won’t orgasm during the scene,” Iwaizumi says bluntly, making Toru flush up to his ears.

“Alright, alright, I get it,” Toru says, voice on the edge of cracking. 

“We can discuss timing once we’re back in Osaka,” Iwaizumi barrels on. “Now, can you let me out of the booth? I’m going back to the hotel.”

Toru is frozen. He bites his lip.

“I.. um... can you give me a minute?”

“Oikawa,” Iwaizumi says, warning in his voice. “Move.”

“I can’t!” Toru says, face burning. 

Iwaizumi pauses, looking down, and finally realizes his… _issue_. Toru pulls a jacket over his lap as Iwaizumi levels him with a deeply unimpressed stare.

Toru should probably be embarrassed about the fact that the expression only makes the problem worse. 

Everything moves very quickly after that. A quick doctor’s visit, one chaotic night googling kinks, and an embarrassing email later, Toru is heading directly to Iwaizumi’s apartment after practice. 

This is Toru’s first time in Iwaizumi’s car. He’s not surprised by the immaculate interior. He _is_ surprised by the fact that Iwaizumi owns driving gloves, although in retrospect he probably should have expected it.

Who even is this guy? And why does every little weird thing about him make Toru so hot?

“So.” Iwaizumi’s fingers tighten on the wheel, black leather squeaking. “You filled out the list.”

“Mhmm.”

“Anything in particular you like?”

 _Too much to fit into one round._ Toru swallows. 

“‘Course there is, Iwaizumi-kun. There were a bajillion things on that list.” 

He pops his phone out of its case, folded paper tucked neatly away inside. 

“Oh, good. You brought it.”

Toru crinkles the paper in his hands, folding and unfolding one of the corners as he stares at it, his emphatic _yes_ and _no_ ’s printed in blue next to each kink. 

“Do you want to go over it when we get to my apartment?” Iwaizumi asks. “Or do you already know what you’d like to try?”

“Uhh, well. A lot of the bondage stuff sounded cool, but I don’t know enough specifics to ask for anythin’ special,” Toru says. “And…”

“And?” Iwaizumi prompts after several seconds of silence.

“Ughhh, Iwaizumi, do ya ever get used to sayin’ this stuff out loud? Shit’s embarrassing.”

Toru isn’t looking at him, but he can feel Iwaizumi’s eyes roll. 

“If you can’t even say it, you probably shouldn’t be participating in it.”

“...Can I write it down instead?”

“Oikawa.”

“Fine,” Toru whines. His voice most certainly does not crack when he mutters, “Overstim.”

He sees Iwaizumi raise an eyebrow out of his peripheral vision. 

“Oh? For your first time? Really?”

Toru shrugs, “S’just more of the good stuff, right? Call me crazy, but—”

“You’re crazy.”

“—but,” Toru slaps his arm, “more orgasms are never a bad thing, the way I see it.”

“Hmm. Well, as long as you understand what you’re getting into. I’m glad you’re interested in bondage, because I probably would’ve needed to tie you up for this anyway,” Iwaizumi says.

His voice is bored, like they’re discussing the weather instead of _tying Toru up._ It gets Toru hotter than it should.

“Yer wrong there,” Toru says. “I’m gonna welcome it with open arms.”

Iwaizumi snorts and says nothing. 

By the time they’ve arrived, parked, and taken the elevator up to Iwaizumi’s apartment, the two of them have hashed out the remaining details. Toru has insisted that Iwaizumi call him by his given name instead of _Oikawa_ , which has the unfortunate habit of reminding him of his twin. Iwaizumi’s reminded him of the traffic light system - green for keep going, yellow for slow down, and red for stop. Toru sent him a picture of his list two days ago, and Iwaizumi repeats it back to him word for word before asking him if anything’s changed.

If someone told Toru in high school that he would one day get hard from someone reciting a list he wrote, he would’ve laughed in their face.

“I’m going to get everything ready,” Iwaizumi says as they put their bags down and toe off their shoes. “Do you want anything to drink?”

“Nah, I’m good.”

“Alright. Go ahead and take a shower, then. I need some time to set up.”

Toru huffs, “Do I still stink or somethin’? I already showered in the lock-”

“A _very thorough_ shower,” Iwaizumi says. “Don’t take it personally. I’ll be taking one as well.”

There’s a pause as Toru’s brain completely shuts down. When it boots back up, all he can think about is showering with Iwaizumi—not just in his vicinity in the locker room, but _with_ him-

“The water pressure in the guest shower’s been… a little lacking, I’m told, recently. I’ve got someone coming to fix it next week.”

Oh. Right. Separate showers. Iwaizumi _would_ be the kind of person to have one bedroom and two full bathrooms. Toru blinks. 

“M’sure it’ll be just fine, Iwa-chan. I’m a different breed than the prissy trust-fund babies you’re prob’ly used to sleepin’ with.”

Iwaizumi’s eye twitches. Because of the mask, Toru can’t tell if he’s fighting a laugh or trying not to scream. 

Toru follows Iwaizumi’s instructions and takes a very thorough shower in the guest bathroom save for his hair, which he took the time to style after his post-practice shower. He remembers seeing Iwaizumi’s list and being absolutely shocked that someone as cleanliness-obsessed as Iwaizumi was cool with ass-play. Toru’s _pretty_ sure that’s something on the table for today, though, so he doesn’t spare any detail in his cleansing routine.

He knows BDSM isn’t inherently sexual, but Iwaizumi’s about to make him come. _Multiple times._ And he got that STI test and everything. Toru’s pretty sure that qualifies as sexual. He’s getting _laid_ tonight - not only that, but it’s his first time sleeping with a teammate.

His mouth quirks and he hums happily to himself as he rinses off. Turns out no one is safe from his charms, not even the uncharmable Iwaizumi Iwaizumi.

Toru wraps a towel around his hips, checks himself out in the mirror, then strolls into Iwaizumi’s bathroom with his heart beating rabbit-quick, jumping against his ribcage when he sees Iwaizumi fiddling with something next to the bed. The other man is also fresh from the shower, but he’s had enough time to put on his mask, _again,_ plus a white button-up and black tailored slacks. Toru’s mouth runs dry and he coughs.

“Oh, got all dressed up for me, Iwa-chan? I thought ya said no Fifty Shades of Grey.”

Iwaizumi glares over at him. It might be a trick of the light, but Toru’s _pretty_ sure he sees Iwaizumi’s cheeks color. 

“I might not be the focus of this scene, but sweatpants don’t really command respect.”

Toru hums, “I thought ya were gonna be decked out in leather and latex, ya know? Like, ‘welcome to my sex dungeon,’ all that.”

Iwaizumi puts his head in his black-gloved hands, muttering, “Oh my god.”

“Should I put clothes on too?”

“No,” Iwaizumi shakes his head, then fixes his eyes on Toru once more, the weight of his gaze palpable as it crawls up and down Toru’s body. “You won’t need them.”

His words bounce around inside Toru’s head, nearly echoing after he stops talking. Toru has a moment, just a moment, where he realizes that this—sleeping with a teammate, sleeping with _Iwaizumi Iwaizumi—_ might actually, in fact, not be the greatest idea he’s ever had. He feels like a gazelle in one of those nature documentaries, except he’s staring the lion full in the face instead of trying to run.

“Come here, Toru,” Iwaizumi murmurs.

Toru’s mouth is still so, so dry. He swallows and walks over to the bed, wondering just how badly he’s blushing.

“I’m going to show you what I set up,” Iwaizumi says slowly, “and you can let me know if you’re okay with it, alright?”

His voice is gentler than Toru’s ever heard it, especially directed at _him._ He’s not sure if he likes it or not. It makes his chest feel tight.

“S-sure,” he manages.

“These are for your wrists,” Iwaizumi says, gesturing to two leather cuffs attached to the headboard by chains. Toru remembers seeing those on that ill-fated day he decided to go exploring in Iwaizumi’s bathroom. “And this,” he holds up a black metal bar with one leather cuff on each end, “is for your legs. You’re not going to be able to move much once I get these on you. Is that okay?”

Toru’s ears are ringing. Everything just became very real very quickly, including the nervous thrum of excitement pulsing underneath his skin. 

“Yeah.”

Iwaizumi squints. Toru can’t tell if he’s smirking or sizing him up; it might be both. 

“What’s your color, Toru?”

Color? What does he - _ohhh._

“Oh, um. Green.”

“Good.”

When Iwaizumi takes one of the cuffs and walks behind him, sliding his gloved hand down Toru’s right arm and taking hold of his wrist, Toru realizes he might be in over his head. He can only watch, flushing fiercely, as Iwaizumi closes the padded leather around his wrist with a firm _click._

Right before Toru’s brain vacates his skull, he comes to the realization that these particular black gloves are thin, nitrile - disposable. Because they’re probably going to get messy.

“Not too tight?” Iwaizumi asks; he strokes a hand down Toru’s hip.

“N-no.”

Iwaizumi’s fingers tighten briefly, “Good. Get on the bed, then. On your back.”

Toru does, slowly, the towel barely hanging onto his hips as he settles against the pillows. Iwaizumi reaches up and does something that makes the chain on the cuff tighten, drawing Toru’s right arm firmly above his head, before climbing on the bed to join him. As Iwaizumi repeats the process with Toru’s left wrist, Toru tugs experimentally on the other restraint and shivers when he can barely move his arm at all.

Then Iwaizumi picks up the metal bar - _a spreader bar,_ if Toru’s research serves him correctly. But the cuffs on the ends…

“Aren’t those a little big for my ankles?” he asks, watching Iwaizumi open up the first cuff. “I don’t have tree trunks for legs, ya know.”

Iwaizumi squints again. 

“These aren’t for your ankles.” He gets the buckle undone and lifts Toru’s right leg off the bed, just enough to ease the leather underneath it. “They’re for your thighs.”

Toru gasps when he feels the leather close around him. 

“What?”

“I suppose you can use a spreader bar anywhere along someone’s legs, but anyone with a basic knowledge of anatomy should be able to figure out that you can still move your thighs if your ankles are chained,” Iwaizumi says, repeating the process with Toru’s left leg, tightening the cuff just above his knee. He looks up when he’s done, eyes boring into Toru’s. “And I don’t want you to be able to do that.”

There’s been a tent in the towel ever since Toru got on the bed. He squirms—or _tries_ to squirm. Iwaizumi’s right, he can’t close his legs now, plus he can’t really do much with his arms either. It just makes him harder, especially when Iwaizumi’s eyes slide between his thighs. 

“You’re enjoying this,” he says, voice unreadable.

“Wha - ‘course I am!” Toru splutters. 

What red-blooded dude _wouldn’t_ enjoy being at the mercy of someone as cold, dispassionate, and beautiful as—

“You say that, but it’s not a given,” Iwaizumi says. His hands play with the hem of the towel. “And we haven’t even started yet.”

With that, he slides the towel to the side, dropping it to the floor. Toru makes a little sound in his throat—he knows he has a nice dick, but what if Iwaizumi doesn’t like it? 

“Hmm,” Iwaizumi hums. “Pretty.”

Then he reaches for the pump bottle of lube on the bedside table like he didn’t just heat Toru’s cheeks with the force of a thousand suns. He presses it a couple times, then makes a fist with that hand as he crawls between Toru’s knees. Toru’s dick twitches as Iwaizumi just... _watches_ him, for a few seconds. He turns his face to the side, desperately trying to hide against his bicep.

Which means he isn’t prepared for the warm, slick hand that wraps around him.

 _“Nngh_ fuck…”

Distantly, Toru realizes that Iwaizumi waited for the lube to warm up. How considerate. 

“You’re sensitive,” Iwaizumi comments, those long fingers sliding up and down, getting him wet. 

Toru makes an embarrassing noise when one fingertip circles the head of his cock, teasing; his belly lurches when the restraints prevent him from jerking away from the focused, intense touch.

Fuck, his hand is so wet. Toru bites his lip and lets his head loll back against the pillows, panting as Iwaizumi falls into a rhythm and starts to jerk him off. It’s hot, it’s so hot—it doesn’t even matter that Iwaizumi is wearing gloves and a mask—if anything, that makes it better—Toru should probably get his head checked after this is all over—

“Shit,” Toru grits out, despite his best attempts to stay silent. “Oh my god-”

“Mm,” Iwaizumi hums. He strokes Toru’s thigh with his dry glove as his other hand squelches noisily every time he reaches the tip. Toru groans and tugs on the cuffs holding his wrists near the headboard. “There’s no point in struggling, Toru. Unless you like confirming that you can’t get away.”

Holy _shit._ Toru bites his lip, dick throbbing as Iwaizumi continues to stroke him, slowly but evenly. He can feel himself leaking all over Iwaizumi’s fingers, making things even more slick. Fuck, it’s just a handjob, why is it so _good?_

There’s laughter in Iwaizumi’s voice when he speaks next, “I guess you do like it, then.”

 _“Omiii,”_ Toru whines, bucking his hips up into Iwaizumi’s fist.

“Don’t move or I’ll stop,” Iwaizumi snaps.

Oh, Jesus. Toru stifles a sob and tries to stay still, head spinning. 

Iwaizumi makes a noise that might be a laugh, “You’re pretty obedient like this. I’m surprised.” Toru doesn’t even have time to reply indignantly before Iwaizumi adds, “Maybe… actually, yeah. Pull your knees up to your chest and hold them there.”

But—but that would—that’s such a revealing position! Toru huffs in a breath, surprised he hasn’t melted into the bed by now from embarrassment. Iwaizumi’s hand slows on his cock and Toru whines, pushing everything else out of his mind and lifting his legs up in case Iwaizumi’s waiting on him to continue.

“Good.”

Then Iwaizumi takes his hand away completely and Toru makes a humiliatingly needy sound, legs shaking as he holds the new position. Iwaizumi doesn’t even spare him a look as he leans over to get more lube, rubbing it between both hands this time. He nudges closer until his clothed knees are nearly touching Toru’s ass, then leans down.

Toru is not proud of his reaction when Iwaizumi wraps his hand back around him at the same time as a slick fingertip prods against his hole, but he can’t fucking help it. He jumps, tensing up and relaxing so quickly that his legs go a little slack, then chokes when the spreader bar braces against Iwaizumi’s chest and arms, leaving Toru’s legs just _hanging there_ , wide open. Stuck.

“Iwaizumi, I - oh god-”

He throws his head back and nearly bites down on his tongue when Iwaizumi slides one long finger inside.

“Fuck, I’m-” Toru groans, shaking with the effort of holding still. “I’m gonna come…”

He normally lasts a lot longer than this, but something about not being able to move, and the double stimulation, and the gloves, and the almost _bored_ way Iwaizumi is looking at him—fuck, just—something about _Iwaizumi_ has him close already. The finger inside him twists, getting him wet there too, and Toru cries out, panting as his back arches involuntarily.

“Go on, Toru,” Iwaizumi murmurs. He squeezes him tight, rubs his thumb over the head, and says, “Come.”

Toru comes so hard that stars pop behind his eyelids, so hard some of it gets on his chin. So hard he can’t even make a sound. He strains at his bonds as Iwaizumi works him through it relentlessly.

When he’s done, Iwaizumi’s hands slow down, but they don’t stop. Toru gasps in a much-needed breath and moans, aftershocks shuddering through him; he blinks his eyes open and shivers at the way Iwaizumi’s have darkened.

Then Iwaizumi picks the pace back up and Toru hisses, sensations turning from blissful to sharp in an instant. “I-” his voice comes out hoarse, so he swallows and tries again, “Iwaizumi, give a guy a second t’ breathe, yeah?”

Iwaizumi cocks his head, arching an eyebrow. “Hmm.” He squeezes in a second finger and Toru moans despite himself, toes curling. “No, I don’t think I will.”

He curls his fingers and Toru grunts through clenched teeth when he pushes against his prostate, nerves fraying as Iwaizumi chuckles and locks onto that spot. Toru’s dick is tingling, burning with oversensitivity as Iwaizumi keeps him hard with his tight, slippery grip.

“Nnnngh - _fuck,_ fuck fuck fuck-”

Toru’s never felt like this before, like he’s trapped in his own body, bending to someone else’s will. It’s terrifying and exhilarating at the same time and he doesn’t want it to stop. He grits his teeth, trying to show Iwaizumi that he can take whatever he can dish out, balling his hands into fists and digging his nails into his palms. Every muscle in his body is tense.

“Color.”

“Wh-what?” Toru stammers.

Iwaizumi stills for a moment and Toru can’t for the life of him decide if he’s relieved or frustrated. 

“Your color, Toru.”

“Oh. Green, green green green. C’mon, keep going.”

Iwaizumi chuckles and resumes his movements, “And here I thought you wanted me to stop.”

“I - I don’t-” Toru whines as Iwaizumi’s strokes get faster. “I d-don’t _know-”_

“Shh, it’s okay,” Iwaizumi murmurs. Toru whines again, sharp heat blooming inside him as he trembles from the attention to his prostate. “That’s the beautiful thing about this. You don’t _have_ to know. You don’t have to decide what you want, because it doesn’t matter what you want.”

Toru has to close his eyes, head spinning as his cock twitches. 

“Oh my _god…”_

“I can do this until you’re coming dry if I want,” Iwaizumi continues, fingers squelching as he takes Toru apart. “All you can do is take it.”

“I’mgonnacomeagain,” Toru slurs, chest heaving as he feels himself twitch around Iwaizumi’s fingers.

Iwaizumi makes a quiet noise. “Oh?”

This time, the build-up isn’t smooth and euphoric like it normally is. It’s choppy, ragged, every breath torn from Toru’s lungs as Iwaizumi forces him higher and higher. The headboard is so sturdy that it barely even creaks as Toru tugs on the cuffs, desperate.

“Please - please-”

He doesn’t even know what he’s asking for.

Iwaizumi makes another noise and adds a third finger. It’s enough of a stretch that it burns, and Toru _howls,_ long past shame. Iwaizumi starts to fuck him with all three, thrusting deep over and over, and Toru—Toru—

 _“Iwaizumi,”_ he breathes, eyebrows knitting together, and then he comes.

He hears Iwaizumi gasp. 

It fucking _hurts._ He’s silent for most of it, breath caught in his chest as his cock jerks and spills over Iwaizumi’s fingers.

“Breathe,” Iwaizumi murmurs.

As soon as Toru sucks in a breath he’s groaning low, both pain and pleasure coloring his voice. He tries to get away from Iwaizumi’s merciless fingers, but he’s so weak and stupid from endorphins that all he can do is make his hips twitch. Maybe in response, Iwaizumi takes his hand off his cock to hold him still, keeping him in place as he finishes coming just from Iwaizumi’s fingers.

Toru’s head lolls to the side when he’s done, moaning quietly on every exhale. His balls are throbbing—hell, his _dick_ is throbbing, and not entirely in a good way.

He hears Iwaizumi pump the lube bottle again. 

Toru doesn’t even have the energy to be embarrassed about the way he whimpers.

“One more,” Iwaizumi says, wrapping his hand back around Toru’s sore cock. “Give me one more.”

“I can’t,” Toru gasps. Iwaizumi curls his fingers and Toru hisses through clenched teeth. “I _can’t-”_

“Yes you can.”

Toru shakes his head, delirious.

“I’m not stopping until you do.”

Toru whines. He’s going to _die._ This is how he’s going to go out, tied to Iwaizumi Iwaizumi’s bed, covered in his own come. He’s not going to survive this.

Being tied up like this is doing really weird things to his brain. It’s also doing really weird things to his dick—he doesn’t have anything else to focus on, nothing else to do except let the pleasure build and build. Iwaizumi’s fingers inside him are electric, little horrible shocks every time he pushes against his prostate; it’s making Toru tremble so badly that Iwaizumi’s hand keeps slipping off him on the upstroke.

“Stay still,” Iwaizumi growls.

Toru sobs. “I c-can’t - I _can’t-”_ He’s so tense that his muscles are starting to cramp. “Omiii, Iwaizumi _please…”_

Iwaizumi laughs. “You know what to do to make it stop.”

He pulls his fingers out a moment later; for a second, Toru thinks he’s saved, that Iwaizumi is letting him off easy, but then he realizes Iwaizumi’s just getting more lube for _that_ hand, now. The slick tightness around his cock feels even more intense without the pressure on his overstimulated prostate; an agonizing sort of pleasure starts to build between his legs, dizzying and strong. It’s intense enough that, even though it’ll hurt, Toru _might_ be able to come like this, as long as Iwaizumi doesn’t—

_Ohgodfuck._

Toru chokes when Iwaizumi slips his fingers back inside, burning with humiliation at the sloppy sounds of so much lube. He’s close enough to the edge now that the used, sore feeling in his ass is pushing him closer instead of keeping him away. He’s going to die he’s going to die—

“You’re squeezing around me again,” Iwaizumi observes.

“Mhhmm’gonna,” Toru slurs, his eyes fluttering closed.

“Yeah? You’re gonna come for me?”

Toru’s head weighs a thousand pounds as he tries to nod, fire starting to spread from his core. It feels good to say yes - he feels owned, in a way he never has before. “S’f’ryou…”

The last thing Toru’s aware of is Iwaizumi drawing in a sharp breath. Then his body ignites and his back arches clean off the bed, come dribbling from his aching cock as his orgasm rips a groan from deep in his chest. 

Blissfully— _blessedly—_ Iwaizumi’s hands slow down as Toru does, and he finally takes both away once Toru’s back to lying limp on the bed, wrung out and exhausted. He doesn’t even have the energy to open his eyes.

Iwaizumi shifts on the bed. There’s a snap and some rustling, then the cool, clean touch of a new pair of gloves on Toru’s sweaty skin. 

“I’m gonna take these off now, okay, Toru?” Iwaizumi’s using that gentle voice again. Toru likes it even better now that he’s been through the wringer. “Then I’ll help you clean up and you can relax a little bit.”

Toru smiles and nods, eyes still too heavy to open. He sighs in relief as Iwaizumi unbuckles the spreader bar, his legs falling limp on either side of Iwaizumi’s body as soon as they’re out of the restraint. He feels Iwaizumi lean over him to undo the cuffs. 

Iwaizumi massages Toru’s wrists after each one is released and says, “You did great.”

Whoa, Iwaizumi has _never_ been this nice to him, like, _ever._ Boy is Toru going to savor this.

“I’m going to go get a washcloth. I’ll be right back.”

Toru stretches out and sighs again, fighting the urge to curl up on his side before he’s gotten all the come and sweat off of him. Iwaizumi is back before Toru can go through with it, sweeping a warm, damp cloth over Toru’s abdomen and chest.

Iwaizumi hums. “I’m gonna clean the lube off too, okay?”

“M’kay,” Toru manages, surprising himself with how ragged his voice is. He appreciates the warning so he’s prepared for the cloth to run over his oversensitive cock and balls, then between his legs, leaving a much cleaner feeling in its wake. 

Now that he’s free to turn onto his side, Toru takes advantage of it immediately, curling up into the fetal position and taking in a deep breath, exhaling as he relaxes into the bed. He smiles and squirms when a thick fleece blanket is draped over him.

He feels the bed dip behind him as Iwaizumi sits down. A hand comes to rest atop his head and Toru sighs. It’s not exactly cuddling, but it’s comforting, which he assumes is the point. 

“Comfortable?”

Toru nods. He can’t remember a time he felt this at peace. He lets himself drift, trusting that Iwaizumi will let him know what to do next. 

Iwaizumi lets Toru rest for a little while. He can’t help but note the small smile resting on the other man’s face. He seems completely content. 

“I need to clean up a few things in here. Let’s move to the couch, if you feel like you’re ready to walk?” Iwaizumi says in a low voice.

Toru stirs, stretching his arms out and almost hitting Iwaizumi in the face. 

“Yeah, sounds good,” Toru says, voice raspier and softer than Iwaizumi’s heard it before. 

Toru’s definitely not _under_ , but he’s still quiet and compliant as Iwaizumi helps him get up and dressed in the clean set of comfortable clothes he’d instructed the other man to bring with him. Iwaizumi then wraps the large fleece blanket back around his shoulders and leads the way down the hall. 

“Take a seat here and feel free to pick something to watch on the TV for a bit. I have Netflix and cable, let me know if there’s anything you’re looking for. I’ll make some tea and be back in just a minute.”

“Ya got a system here, Iwa-chan?” Toru asks with a wry turn of his lips that’s frustratingly endearing when tempered by the heavy softness currently in his eyes. 

Iwaizumi smirks a little behind the mask. 

“Do you want green or black tea?” he asks. “I also have jasmine.”

“Ooh, jasmine. How fancy,” Toru mocks, a good sign his head’s clearing up. “When in Rome, I s’pose.”

Iwaizumi takes that as a selection and heads towards the kitchen. Toru isn’t wrong. This _is_ his system. He’s never been a naturally cuddly or effusive person, and he doesn’t want his subs getting the wrong ideas about their relationship, so he’s had to come up with other ways to make sure that they feel properly taken care of after a scene. That’s important to Iwaizumi. He’s not a total asshole, like some might claim. 

But he also doesn’t want a sub to fall asleep in his bed.

So when a scene is finished he makes sure they’re okay, cleans them up, and provides water and blankets as needed. When they’re ready, he directs them to the couch, where he can let them pick something to watch on his television—something they find comforting, but that has a clear ending. He makes them a drink and then goes to clean up anything left over from the scene. Once that’s done, he sits with them until the end of their program and arranges a way for them to get home. It’s a _good_ system.

When the tea is finished Iwaizumi brings it out in a traditional, earthenware teacup and places it gently in Toru’s fleece covered hands.

“Thanks, Iwaizumi,” Toru says, looking—for lack of better words—sweet and gentle wrapped in the blanket, tea in his lap, with the TV flipped to the Raijin/Red Falcons game. 

“I’m going to go tidy up in the other room,” Iwaizumi says. “I’ll be back in just a few minutes.”

It takes about twenty minutes to meticulously clean the bedroom. When Iwaizumi returns to the living room, he takes a seat on the other end of the couch. 

“What was the final score of the third set?” Iwaizumi asks.

“Nineteen to twenty-five,” Toru says. “Looks like the Falcons gave up the first set but they’ve had the momentum since I flipped the match on.”

“Hm,” Iwaizumi acknowledges, eyes trained on the screen.

True to Toru’s assessment, the Red Falcons also take the fourth set to win the match. When the final whistle blows, Toru gets up without prompting. He folds the throw blanket and then groans as he stretches again. 

Once he’s got his shoes on and his bag slung over his shoulder, he looks back to Iwaizumi. 

“Thanks for the good time, Iwa-chan,” he says, opening the door. 

“You seemed to enjoy it,” Iwaizumi replies. “More than I thought you would.”

“Oh, ye of little faith.” He hitches his bag higher. “Anyway, I know ya said one time, but since you let me pick something, dontcha think it’s only fair for me to do something _you_ wanna do, too?”

Iwaizumi stares at him.

“Just a thought. Night, Iwaizumi-kun.”

He winks— _winks—_ and then he shuts the door quickly, before Iwaizumi can even form a response. His eyes are wide, staring at the empty genkan. It’s sinking in, the realization that Iwaizumi’s been pushing off since he snapped the first cuff around Toru’s wrist. 

That was… a _really_ good scene.

Iwaizumi puts his head in his hands. Toru, brand new to kink, never having subbed before, with _that_ personality… it’s not the best scene that Iwaizumi has _ever_ been a part of, but it was certainly the best he’s had with a sub he’s never played with before.

He didn’t even expect Toru to _like_ it once he was actually faced with the situation up close. Iwaizumi would have bet against Toru even going through with it... and _yet_ , not only is he actually sort of a natural, but he and Iwaizumi are _compatible_.

Iwaizumi groans into his palms. This can’t be happening. 

He can’t believe he’s going to _ask_ Oikawa Toru to sub for him… _again_. 


End file.
